Make Me Beautiful
by Do the Gabriel
Summary: Doctor Brackett has it all: a good job, admirers, and Nurse Dixie... and Joe Early is jealous. Early makes a dangerous and reckless decision, and the results are devastating.


Make Me Beautiful

A Doctor Brackett Tale

Doctor Kel Brackett hurried along the halls of Rampart General, always in a rush, never stopping to chat. It was his job to save lives, after all, not to discuss the latest crazy LA weather with Doctor Morton.

The day the accident actually happened Doctor Brackett was in an awful mood. The hospital was busy, swarming with people who needed help urgently and those who didn't. He was just taking a quick coffee break when Dixie walked in, her face tear-stained, her uniform splattered with blood. "Dix—what happened—who…" Kel knew he didn't want to hear the answer.

"It's Joe, Kel," Dixie took a shaky deep breath and Doctor Brackett felt his heart drop through to his stomach. "He… and Morton, he…."

"Dix…" Doctor Brackett was truly at a loss: Dixie, on a regular day, would never stutter in such an annoying fashion. "Dix, I really don't think that—"

"I swear it, Kel!" Dixie collapsed dramatically into Kel's favorite cushioned chair. "It's Morton, he's…"

"Dix!" Brackett contained the impulse to roll his eyes; it would only make things worse. "Can you hurry up?! And what's that blood from?!"

Dixie's expression darkened. "It's what I've been trying to tell you. There was an accident…" she began softly, but just then a distraction in the form of Doctor Early burst into the room and busted out laughing, pointing at Dixie's gracefully aged face, which was now twisted into an expression of grief and fury.

"So here she is!" Joe guffawed, "Rampart's one and only plus-size model!"

Doctor Early didn't _actually_ think Dixie was fat. He was just jealous, because she was in love with Brackett, and not him: after all, why would she ever choose _him_ over Brackett's handsome face and doctorish charms?

But Dixie thought he was just being mean.

"You—you—Kel, you make him pay!" Dixie stormed out of the room in a huff. "Make him pay for all he's done!"

Doctor Brackett turned wide eyes onto Joe, who was bent double with laughter. "You—you can't do that, Joe," He gasped. "It's not cool."

"Okay, yeah, fine, I'll stop." Doctor Early straightened up, let out one last snort, then peered at Kel quizzically. His expression softened into one of concern. After all, he still liked Kel… most of the time. "You all right, colleague?" he inquired.

"Uh… yes?" Doctor Brackett wondered if all those nights of missed sleep were finally taking their toll. He rubbed under his eyes frantically. "I'm… not getting wrinkles yet—_am_ I?" He was always worried about wrinkles. It seemed silly, but he prided himself on his youthful appearance.

"Goodness gracious, man." Doctor Early looked worried suddenly, almost paranoid. "I didn't mean to freak you out _that_ much. You're not getting wrinkles any time soon. I swear it on my high school diploma. I _swear_."

"Okay, that's great, that's just great, it's wonderful," Brackett was working himself into a frenzy. "Just please tell me why you asked if I was all right. Do I look sick or something?"

"No, it's just—"

"Are my eyes small and ovally, are my lips chapped, are my fingernails yellow, is my face round and wrinkled—?"

"_Kel!_" Doctor Early laid a comforting hand on Brackett's shoulder. "Take it easy… I think you're just a little overworked is all. Why don't you go home, hmm?" For some reason Early stopped talking and looked rather uncomfortable. "Mike…. and I've got it covered just fine."

"Fine," Doctor Brackett walked towards the door. "But…"

"But _what?_" Joe wanted Doctor Brackett to get out of the hospital as soon as physically possible; he was impatient for him to drive far away, all the way to that intersection by the McDonald's…

"Could you please explain to me why there's blood all over Dix's uniform?"

Doctor Early swallowed uncomfortably. "Well, you see, Kel… I don't want you getting upset…" he stalled by pouring himself a cup of coffee, "There was a little accident with… _Hey_, look at the time, you'd better be off—I mean _I'd_ better be off—well, someone, anyway—it's nearly… what is it, eight o' clock?"

"It's five in the afternoon," Doctor Brackett stood in the doorway, glaring. "And apparently the dark secret of what happened to Dixie will never be revealed to me."

Doctor Early gaped as Kel slammed the door and hurried down the hallway. Then he narrowed his eyes as he stared after his fellow doctor. "I didn't mean to offend you, Prince Charming," he whispered angrily, "But, you see, we all know you're too _delicate_ to handle the truth. After all… who'd want to see your pretty little face upset? Not Dix!" He straightened up stiffly and waddled out of the break room.

Back in the busy halls of Rampart Emergency, Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto rushed yet another victim through the ambulance entrance and past Doctor Brackett, who was trying to locate Dixie before he left. "We've got a bad one, Doc!" called Johnny as he and Roy attempted to perform CPR while pushing away the bumbling pests of ambulance attendants. "He's been in—" he quickly did two breaths of mouth-to-mouth before Roy continued chest compressions—"full arrest for about forty minutes! I reckon that even if he does make it—" he bent down to breathe life into the man once again (_Much too soon_, Doctor Brackett thought to himself, _Roy could only have done maybe _one _compression!_)—"he's sure gonna have a hard time of it!" Johnny, breathing hard, turned his watery brown eyes onto Doctor Brackett. "So my question for you is—do we keep up the CPR… or let him die?"

Roy looked up, horrified. "_Johnny!_" he reprimanded, "That's not our decision!"

"Listen, I know—" Johnny bent down for his two breaths—"I know, but, we have to remain available, and honestly, Roy—" he took a gasping breath of his own—"I really, _really_ don't think he's comin' back, like, anytime soon, if you know what I—what I mean by that."

Roy irritably wiped his sweaty brow with his shoulder. "_Seventeen,_ _eighteen_—_yes_, I know what you mean—_twenty-one, twenty-two_—"

Johnny countered, "Well, if you'd _really_ understood what I meant, then you would have agreed—"

Doctor Brackett was truly fed up with this conversation. "Try room three," he cut in suddenly, "I'm going home." He pushed past the crowds of people, making his way towards the parking lot, leaving Johnny and Roy far behind.

But not the steady gaze of Joe Early.

…**.**

Doctor Brackett began the long, lonely drive home. Sometimes he'd ride with Dixie and it wasn't that bad, but today Dixie was still working, and it was pouring; Brackett had to squint to make out anything farther than ten feet in front of him.

He pulled into a McDonald's near his apartment building and ordered a large cheeseburger. He had to wait over fifteen minutes for his meal; there was a slight delay when one of the employees threw down his apron and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Tough job, eh?" Kel asked the teenager that handed him his meal. "People quit here often?"

The boy squinted at him with small hazel eyes. He rubbed his freckled nose.

"I'm just kidding with you!" Doctor Brackett hustled back to his seat and devoured his burger; it was cheaply made and they'd forgotten to leave out the pickles. They always forgot to leave out the pickles.

When he was done he dumped the remains of his meal into a large plastic trashcan that resided beside the revolving door. "Thanks!" he called to the boy as he stepped into the unforgiving weather outside. He sprinted to his car, trying to beat the wind and rain. Still, when he started the ignition he was soaked and chilled to the bone. "No wonder there's been so many traffic accidents," he muttered to himself, "You can't see any cars in this mess!"

Kel peeled out of the McDonald's parking lot and cruised down the side roads, moving farther and farther out of LA, away from Rampart. He smiled despite his constant feeling of discomfort and cold. He was still smiling as he approached the last intersection before his apartment, he was still smiling as the light turned red.

He wasn't smiling when he realized he couldn't stop in time: the roads were too slippery. He was not smiling when a mini van—_It looks just like Joe's mini van!_ He thought wildly—materialized out of the rain and slammed into his stylish convertible.

He was not smiling as he lost consciousness.

…**.**

Doctor Brackett awoke to the beeping of machines and the murmuring of low voices. He caught bits and pieces of conversation; it was as though his ears were a radio, and someone kept tuning them in and out of the correct channel.

"… I wonder if Carol's got those ex-rays yet…"

"….that's a lot of pressure you're puttin' on him…"

"Look! He's awake!"

Brackett felt frozen; a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. "Where am… where am…." Kel stopped when he heard hysterical laughter.

"He speaks!" someone shouted. Joe, Brackett guessed. He had a real problem of laughing at all the wrong moments. But this time there was an edge to his laugh. He sounded almost… mean. "Let us see if he can carry on a conversation…" Early laughed once more. Like a hyena.

Someone leaned in close to Kel's ear. When they spoke, it tickled. "How are you feeling, Kel?" they asked. As though they didn't already know how terrible he felt. "Do you know what's happened?"

Doctor Brackett considered the possibilities. When he spoke his lips felt numb. "You decided you… couldn't handle all the patients on your own, so you…so you tranquilized me and took me back… back to the hospital. And here I am."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the room until Doctor Early spoke again. "Uh, no, actually…" he sounded amused. Still. "You were… actually in an automobile accident…."

Kel didn't listen to the rest. He was thinking about the way Joe pronounced the word _automobile_. He put more emphases on the _bile_ than the _automo_. Doctor Brackett liked the way Early pronounced _automobile_. It sounded funny, like the way an old person would say it. Oh, wait. Joe _was_ an old person.

"Are you even listening to me, Kel?" Doctor Early's words startled Brackett out of his stupor. "I've asked you three times to drive me to Atlantis in a purple school bus and you haven't blinked an eye."

"_What?!_" Doctor Brackett's eyebrows shot up at the ridiculous suggestion. "That's not _possible_! Of _course_ I've been blinking! It's a human _reflex!_ "

"Well, it's certainly the same old Kel," someone snickered.

Doctor Brackett did not like people laughing at him. "Listen, I'm in a lot of pain here!" he was focused on un-blurring his vision and didn't pay much attention to what he was saying. "So it would sure be a help if you'd stop insulting me and start acting like _professionals_!"

"Kel, calm down," Doctor Early chided while checking Brackett's pupils. "You're not acting very intelligent right now… oh, what am I saying? You always_ were _the smart one… Never mind. You need treatment."

And so Doctor Brackett was wheeled off to the burn unit.

…**.**

One week later, not much had changed.

"How bad am I?" Kel asked for the millionth time.

"Mmm," came the reply. That was the only response Doctor Brackett ever got. So he figured that he must have been burned pretty bad.

Just then, Johnny and Roy walked in, looking very awkward. They were the ones that had pulled Kel out of his car in the first place, everyone told him. Roy was holding several envelopes and get-well cards. Brackett sighed: Week one, and already there was a mountain of cards beside his bed. The doctor tried to push aside his bitterness and be hospitable. "How are you boys doing this. _Humph_…. This fine LA morning?"

"Oh, we're fine, Doc," Roy added the get-well cards and letters to the gigantic stack and made himself comfortable in the plastic visitor's chair. "Thanks for asking. But what we really want to know is… how are _you_?"

Brackett hoped they didn't stay too long.

He forced a smile. "…Better. Better than ever."

Johnny and Roy exchanged a glance. This time Johnny spoke up. "Are ya… ready? For that skin graft, I mean?" A shiver ran up Kel's spine.

"A… a _skin graft_…" Doctor Brackett felt near tears. He had heard nothing of this. But he needed to know it all. And the paramedics knew he needed to know it all.

And so even though the nurse on duty was shaking her head frantically, Roy calmly explained the situation. "You got some serious burns, third-degree burns, in the automobile accident a week ago," as Roy was talking, Kel couldn't help but shiver in his skin; people talking about the crash always made him uneasy. "You got some particularly bad burns on your face. And I don't know why, but for some reason your doctor has banned anyone from telling you these things." Roy paused. "You know who your doctor is, right? Doctor Eric Hoffman, he's a good friend of Early's?"

Brackett nodded. He'd met Hoffman… a shifty-eyed, cowardly fellow. Always following Joe around like his life depended on it.

Roy continued, "I personally think it's your right, as a doctor and as a patient, to know what's happening to your own body. Tomorrow you're going to have a skin graft done on your face… to grow the skin back, you know? Well of course you know, you're a doctor… so, uh, yeah."

Doctor Brackett was truly horrified. "_Tomorrow?_ Wait—I have third-degree _burns_ and no one's told me _anything_ for a _week?!_" He propped himself up on his elbow. "I wanna speak with Joe!"

Roy looked uncomfortable. "See, that's the thing…" Doctor Brackett narrowed his eyes. "Doc—you can't see Early. For a while, at least. They say he's ill. He'll be in surgery at the same time as you, actually."

"Oh yeah?" Kel squirmed around until he got into a position so he could lean back into his pillows and still be sitting. He stared accusingly at the paramedics. "Who's 'they'? Doctor Early, perhaps? And may I ask _why_ Eric Hoffman is treating me? Can't they find any other doctors? Morton, perhaps?"

Roy stared at his shoes. "Well…. uhm…" He looked first at the wall, then the ceiling, then the other wall, and finally the floor again. "Uh, I really think Johnny would be better at explaining it…"

Johnny's eyes widened. He swallowed hard. "Whale, Doc…" he still spoke with that ridiculous impediment. "The day of the accident, there was… uh, another accident. But this one was with… Doctor Morton. You know Doctor Morton… right?"

"_Yes,_" The incompetence of humanity stupefied Doctor Brackett. But then he remembered the blood on Dixie's uniform, and Joe refusing to tell him, and suddenly he felt very afraid for Doctor Morton's life.

"Whale, Doctor Morton was… down in the labs… like, the labs for testing blood samples and stuff, right? Right. So he was down there with Dix and… and… Early… and…"

Doctor Brackett wished that Roy could have told him. Or the nurse. Or even Eric Hoffman, one of the stupidest men on Earth, and certainly the stupidest doctor. _Anyone_ but John Gage.

"Whale, one of the… you know those, like, those medicine cabinets? With the glass?"

"_Yes, John_. He _knows_." This time it was Roy who answered.

"Um, yeah, of course… uh. One of those cabinets kind of… fell? On him and Dix… and he didn't exactly… whale, he wasn't as _lucky_. As they were. I guess."

Doctor Brackett was stunned. He felt like he'd just been pushed out of a tree and landed flat on his face. "You mean he's…" he croaked.

Roy cleared his throat. "Yeah," the young paramedics stood up to leave. "Well, uh, good luck with the surgery."

Brackett called out desperately, "If Dixie was hit by a cabinet, then _why_ was she still _working_?! And what's wrong with Joe? Was he hit by the cabinet, too?!"

But those guys high-tailed outta there as fast as they could. And then the nurse did, too.

So that Doctor Brackett could cry in peace.

And cry he did.

…**.**

Waking up after the skin graft the next day, Kel felt a dull ache in his right temple. It persisted for three more days until he finally complained and the single nurse that cared for him (Brackett wasn't allowed to know her name) increased his painkillers, even allowing them to add a little button to the side of his bed that would administer him morphine whenever he pressed it. Feeling a bit better, the doctor began asking questions again. "What do I look like?" he asked yet again. "How bad is it? Can I _please_ see?"

But the answer was always a resounding "No."

Finally, about a week later, Brackett managed to get hold of a mirror, and quite easily, too: he simply snatched one out of Hoffman's back pocket!

Doctor Brackett picked it up and peered at his face in the twilight… or what used to be his face.

He was unrecognizable. His thick black locks were gone, replaced by a shock of gray hair. His big blue eyes had become smaller and more oval-like. His youth had been snatched away: his entire face—it was covered with wrinkles!

He had the face of Doctor Joe Early.

Doctor Brackett threw the mirror to the ground, horrified, disgusted, sickened by what he saw. Nothing could make this better. No amount of painkillers could ease the throbbing in his heart.

…**.**

The next morning Kel woke up feeling strangely ill. Like… almost how he felt when he learned about the third-degree burns. Sick to the stomach. With fear, he supposed.

But why was he feeling that way when he was lying, safe and sound in a warm hospital bed, receiving first-class care around the clock?

Oh… OH, DEAR. Doctor Brackett sat bolt upright, alarm coursing through his veins. His _face_… But, he reasoned, that was probably only a dream. There was _no way_ he could have Joe Early's face. It wasn't possible.

Just then the nurse walked in to change his dressings. He leaped upon this opportunity. "Hey, uh, nurse," he began, "Is there any possibility that—" two visitors, Johnny and Roy, came in at exactly the wrong moment. Why, Brackett was just about to get some answers!

Their faces contorted into almost comical expressions of horror and disgust when they caught sight of him. "What the _devil_ happened?" Johnny breathed, staring at Brackett's face. "Are we in the wrong room, Carol?"

The nurse—Carol—looked as though she was going to pass out. "Get-out-of-here-_NOW!_" she cried, eyes wide.

Doctor Brackett could stand it no longer. "What is _wrong_ with me?!" he implored, "Please, I beg of you, just _tell_ me!"

Johnny rubbed his nose and squinted into his face once more… _But what is he seeing?_ Doctor Brackett wondered. He soon got his answer. Almost, anyway.

"Whale, Doc," Johnny began, "It appears to me that—"

The radio in Roy's hand crackled to life. "Squad 51," came the dispatcher's voice, "Man with trouble breathing, 4515 Leslie Road, 4-5-1-5 Leslie Road."

Johnny gave Doctor Brackett one more pitying look before he and his partner ran out the door.

And so Kel's only source of information on the happenings of his own body was gone.

…**.**

One week passed, then two. Not much happened. Doctor Brackett had three more skin grafts done, one on his hand, one on his other hand, and the last one was done on his left foot. He was currently waiting to be wheeled off to surgery for a fourth.

In the meantime, he had a visitor. And not the paramedics, either.

This time it was Dixie.

"Kel, there's something I really need to tell you," Dix's face was dead serious. Brackett nodded slowly for her to continue. "Your burns. The ones on your face. They were relatively minor… these skin grafts aren't necessary. I think Joe has a plan, and I'm not liking what I see."

Kel replied in as dignified a manner as he could. "Yes, Dix, I know I'm hideous. You don't have to like what you see; I'm not asking you to. On the other hand, those burns _were_ serious. Roy DeSoto told me. And he's a certified paramedic. So he should know. Basically what I'm saying to you is this: if you have something to say to me, say it to me."

Dixie gave him an odd look. "You'd believe a measly paramedic over _me_?" she questioned, "Besides, I didn't mean your… um, Joe's face when I said I wasn't liking what I'm seeing. I meant his _plan_. Here, Kel, just listen to me for a minute. Look at your hands."

Doctor Brackett looked at his hands. Ever since the skin graft, he'd had the hands of an old person… the hands of Joe Early.

"See them? See how they look, Kel?"

"Yes, Dixie, I see."

"Now I want you to _listen_ to me, Kel. 'Cause it's gonna sound ridiculous, what I'm saying. Ever wonder what happened to your face?"

"Easy: it was _burned off_ by something we call _fire_."

"Guess again, Kel… Joe's got it. No lie. Ever since that first graft, Joe Early has been lounging around with _your face_. That's why he didn't want you to see him. For some strange reason, he wants to switch with you, Kel. You know… switch _bodies_. All the nurses think he's _you!_"

Doctor Brackett was dumbstruck. He lay there passively as his uneasy nurse leaned over to inject the medicine that would render him totally unconscious in minutes.

To his surprise, Dixie leaned over and, quick as lightening, grabbed the nurse's gloved hand. "Not so fast," she reprimanded, "You're not gonna fill Kel up with dope so Joe can steal his body!" The nurse nodded slowly and lowered the needle. Then she spoke for the first time in weeks.

"I never actually wanted to be a part of this. Doctor Early's making me do it."

Dixie looked at her pityingly. "I know, honey. I know."

Brackett looked on in confusion. One minute Dixie was grabbing her arm and yelling, and the next she was comforting the young nurse.

Kel did not understand women. Not at all.

Just then Johnny and Roy ran in, making their daily visit. Johnny's face broke out into a smile. His perfect, lovely, un-surgically-altered face. "Hey, hey, hey, Doc!" he skidded to a halt beside Kel's bed. "Have _we_ got _news_for _you_! Oh hi, Dix," he added as an afterthought.

Roy was grinning as well. "Yeah, it's really great," he deposited the usual get-well cards onto their designated pile. "Everyone at the station chipped in."

Brackett couldn't help but notice that Roy didn't acknowledge Dixie at all. Were they mad at her? For what?

Johnny delivered the good news. "We got you a tub—" he and Roy ran out to the hall briefly and came back in with a giant box. "—of your favorite ice cream!" They opened the box and a huge container of cookie dough fell onto the hospital floor. Johnny picked it up hastily. "It is, if my memory serves me correctly, six gallons of the world's finest cookie-dough-flavored ice cream." He elegantly took a spoon, bowl, and napkin out from behind his back.

Kel beamed. "Excellent!" he cried, gratefully accepting the bowl brimming with ice cream they handed him. "No, guys, I mean it. This is really great!" The paramedics, pleased with themselves, walked out the door. Roy stuck his head in long enough to shout, "Good luck with the surgery!"

And then they were gone.

Brackett turned to Dixie. "Some answers?" he chuckled. Dixie sighed.

"The guys are angry at me," she explained, "Because Joe's doing all this because of _me_, Kel. He was jealous because he thought I could never like him like I like you. And it's _true_, Kel. I _can't_.

"But he didn't understand _why_. I love you for your spirit and hard work. But he thinks I love you for your _looks_, Kel. _That's_ why he's switching your bodies. But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted revenge.

"You see, Kel? You've always outshined Joe. He was _your_ intern, not the other way around. It was _you_ who was chosen to promote the paramedic program. It's always you. And that makes him angry. And jealous. I guess… I guess he thought that you've always had all the lucky breaks. And he's just in the background… old, lonely, unloving and unloved Doctor Early. What would it be like, he must have wondered, to be you?

"Well, now he's finding out. And you get to see what it's like to be him. And Kel, it's not going to be easy. Because Joe doesn't have such a good reputation around here anymore….

"Joe Early murdered Mike Morton, and everybody knows it. He pushed that cabinet down onto him. Crushed his body under hundreds of pounds of medical equipment. Just to blame you later. Oh, Kel. Everyone thinks… that your him!

"Kel, not many people know about this. Just John, Roy, me, and Nurse Carol here."

Doctor Brackett felt betrayed and bemused. "But… but why were you still working? On the day Mike died? You were covered with blood!"

Dixie sighed yet again. "There's a rumor that Joe forced me to keep working. That he threatened to hurt me if I didn't. And Kel? It gets worse. See, he's wanted by the police."

Doctor Brackett's head swam. "Well that's… that's good, isn't it?"

Dixie put her head in her hands despairingly. She choked out, "Haven't you been listening at all?! You look like _Joe!_"

And Kel burst into tears.

…**.**

That night, he could not rest. Kel tossed and turned and sweated and fretted and did not catch one single wink of sleep.

Which was why at first he thought he was hallucinating when Kel Brackett sneaked into the room through the open window.

Because _he_ was Kel. _He_ was Kel. So who was _that_, walking towards his bedside with his face, his hands, his hair?

Finally it clicked. The man who crawled through the window wasn't Doctor Brackett…. It was Doctor Early. Yes, it was Doctor Joe Early, the very man who'd ruined Brackett's life.

Kel narrowed his eyes. "What do _you_ want?" he whispered through his teeth, "Or did you give it up this whole charade when Dixie told me about your plans?" To his surprise, Early laughed. He _laughed_.

"Whoa, there, hold your horses." Joe took another step closer. "And lighten up. It's really not fun to see myself so… _hostile_."

Early still sounded like himself. He hadn't stolen Kel's voice. Brackett took this information, this tiny tidbit of hope, and stowed it away in his head. In his heart. And then he steeled himself. And replied to Doctor Early. "The feeling's mutual, then, Joe. And would you mind wearing more yellow tomorrow? I hate blue." This got another laugh from Early. But at least this time Kel was trying to be funny.

"Sure, sure, I'll wear yellow…." Doctor Early's tongue darted out and licked his chapped lips. It was disgusting to watch. Kel had never let his lip's get chapped like that when _he_ had them… obviously Joe didn't understand that it took effort to look nice. "Not that you'll be around to see it."

It was Brackett's turn to laugh out loud. "Making childish threats again, Joe? Will you _ever_ grow up?" His old enemy's face transformed. It turned ugly, and mean. An expression that Brackett, if he was in that face, would never have made.

"Oh, I've grown up, Kel," he moved closer. "I've grown up and gone into business."

"What _business_, Joe?!" Doctor Brackett cried, sitting up. "Do you honestly believe that crime is a _business_? No, Joe! And it's _against the law_ for a _reason_!" A strange, deep animal growl came from the depths of Early's throat.

"Oh, you think you're such a _hero_, Brackett, don't you?" Now he was standing right next to him. "You think the good guys will fight me off and you'll live happily ever after. Back in your normal body. With Dix."

Kel smiled and nodded agreeably.

This did not make Doctor Early happy. "Well, have I got news for you, _Kel_," the old man, disguised in a young body, tilted his head menacingly to the side. "You're not gonna be skipping on home _anytime soon_. Because I've got some matches here. And some gasoline. And I can _strike_ those matches," Doctor Early mimed lighting a match and sweeping it along a wall, "And _start_ _a_ _fire_. And chances are you won't survive that fire…." He laughed again, that crazed, maniacal laugh. "_Chances are_, you'll be _all tied up_." He picked some rope up off the floor.

Doctor Brackett swallowed. He tried to ignore the cold sweat that had broken out on his forehead, on his neck. "Now, Joe…." Kel tried to think of something to delay Early, distract him just long enough so that Doctor Brackett could push the little help button on the side of his bed… "You might want to think this over. After all… Dixie's in here. And so are all the patients."

Early waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. "Oh, Nurse McCall will be fine," he dismissed.

"Dixie _hates you!_" Brackett screamed, pounding his fist on his pillow, furious that Early wouldn't stop _laughing_. "She hates you and she always has! She _told me so!_"

And now Doctor Early was practically rolling on the floor, he was laughing so hard he was crying. He couldn't stop. "Dix—Dix—she _told you so_, did she?" he choked out, "Well, that's _too bad_, Doc! Because _Dixie_ is downstairs waiting for me! Not you! _Me, Kel!_" And now he really did fall on the floor, and he was pounding the ground with his fist, and wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. Doctor Brackett slid his hand down the arm on his bed and blindly felt for the help button, not taking his eyes of Early. _There_. He pushed it and felt a great sense of relief, almost euphoria. Other people could take care of this mess. But he had to set some things straight first.

"Joe, what do you mean, she's downstairs waiting for you?" he asked, letting that giddy sense of happiness course through his veins, hardly caring about the answer Early would give him.

"I—I mean," Doctor Early was all wrapped up in chortles, "that Dixie is downstairs, in Emergency, waiting to be taken back to her apartment in Kel Brackett's car. No one will think anything of it. Just two happy lovebirds… going home to have a good time together, relax some. I always wanted to enjoy some alone time with Dix. And now I can. Sure, she'll be a little apprehensive at first. A little resentful, because of what I did to you. But eventually, she'll come to terms with the fact that there's a new Brackett in town."

Kel was getting strangely sleepy as he listened to Early's speech. It was a struggle to keep his eyelids open. Drowsiness was pulling them down.

"The memory of you, Kel, is going to be erased and replaced with memories of a newer, better, Kelly Brackett. One with not such a bad temper. One who can play the piano. One who treats Dixie with _decency_ and _respect_.

"I know I risked a lot to get to live that life. Joe Early's reputation, for one. But I don't have to worry about that old man anymore. He's a criminal. And a murderer. Did you know Joe Early murdered Mike Morton? Well, I—ah, _you_ now, I must remember—did. The police are going to get a nice tip tonight on where they can find you. And did you know Joe Early set fire to the hospital from his own room, later tonight? To try and take everyone down with him before the police could take him away?"

Brackett's eyes had by that point closed, and he was barely holding onto consciousness. He could hear the sound of gasoline being poured onto the floor. Dr. Early kept rambling on and on, and though Kel could no longer make out the words, the general effect of it all was that there was a dull, hopeless feeling deep in Brackett's heart. There was nothing he could do. _At least_, he thought vaguely, _at least help is coming_—

He gasped. A thought had occurred to him right before he was pulled down into the dark dregs of sleep: there was only one button on the side of his bed, and it wasn't for help. Pressing it administered morphine into his system. In his panic and confusion he had mistakenly pressed it.

_Well, Dix,_ he contemplated silently, _Looks like I just shot _myself_ up with dope so Joe could ruin my life. If only you'd been here to stop me._

Or maybe he said it out loud. The last thing he heard was a chuckle, and then everything went black.

…**. **

The next morning Doctor Brackett awoke to yelling and screaming and wailing. Confused, he struggled to sit up. What was going on? Was he having a nightmare? He had nightmares, sometimes. About the accident.

But they never took place in Rampart. And something about the whole thing was too…. realistic. For a dream.

His suspicions were confirmed when Johnny ran into the room, accompanied by Roy. "HEY, _DOC!_" shouted Johnny as all three of them ran full-tilt towards his bed. "DOC, WE'RE GONNA GET YOU OUTTA HERE NOW!" It was only then that Doctor Brackett realized the air was filled with smoke.

They continued to talk to him as they evacuated him from the building, explaining every step of the procedure so he knew what was going on. Stumbling down the stairs towards Emergency, surrounded by flames, Brackett's hearing turned fuzzy. He felt sick to his stomach. Black dots impaired his vision. He was fading out….

"Hey, Doc, stay with us," someone said. Kel could barely make it out. "We're gonna be safe outside in just a minute…." Brackett could hardly hear a thing. Could hardly see. The smoke stung in his eyes, in his mouth. His stomach clenched up and he hoped he wouldn't vomit all over the paramedics. Everything hurt.

Maybe it was motion sickness. He hadn't walked this fast in weeks. He was so tired; his feet were already dragging on the ground. Johnny, and Roy grabbed his arms, they urged him to keep going, to go faster, because they were almost out, they were almost there—

And then, they stopped. Just stopped, right where they were. Doctor Brackett's hearing was getting sharper; he was no longer in danger of passing out. He could make out the heavy panting of John, the rough gasps of Roy. And then they started talking to someone…. Someone with a deep, rumbling voice, someone who sounded important, who knew what they were doing.

There was a yell, and then a thump. Someone cried out in pain. "Johnny!" Roy yelled. "_RUN!_" And then Doctor Brackett was being hauled along, on what felt like grass. But he was confused: they'd already made it out of the fire, right? So why were they still running?

Suddenly Kel was shoved to the ground as a shot rang out. Were they being shot at?! Why couldn't he _see_ what was going _on_?!

Someone beside him moaned. Using his logical reasoning skills, Doctor Brackett came to the conclusion that it was Johnny, who, for unknown reasons, had just been shot.

And then he was yanked up again. Kel felt like a ragdoll being tossed about for entertainment purposes. Then the deep voice spoke again, this time right into Kel's ear. "Let me explain to you your rights. You have the right to remain silent…."

And then Brackett realized. He pieced it all together, even as the handcuffs were slapped on, even as he was stuffed into the backseat of a police car.

Doctor Joe Early had started the fire. To finish Kel once and for all. But once the police and fire departments came, Johnny and Roy knew that Brackett could be arrested in the chaos that ensued. After all, Joe Early was wanted by the police.

So they sneaked into his room on the pretense of evacuating the burn unit. They were trying to smuggle him out. And they almost did. They got so close….

But then something must have gone wrong. The police caught up with them when they got outside.

Maybe Roy and Johnny had tried to protect him. They must have. And the policeman kicked Roy or something.

So Johnny ran with Kel as far as he could, until he was shot.

And then it dawned on Brackett. Johnny might very well be dead by now. Who would pay attention to him? He was one victim in millions. After all, the hospital had been set on fire! And what about Roy? He knew for a fact that he had fallen to the ground. Why?

None of the policemen talked to Kel. Not once. And so he spent that long, lonely ride imagining that he was alone in that car. Alone still, yes… but not in a bad way. In a... peaceful way. Tranquil. He imagined that he was alone, and that he looked like himself. He imagined that he was on his way to Dixie's house. Going to pick her up so they could get dinner together.

Like how it used to be. Before the accident.

Before Kel's life fell apart at the seams.

…**.**

The trial went quickly and ended badly. He was found guilty; Joe Early had done his job well.

His sentence was death.

As Doctor Brackett was led down an unfamiliar hall by two total strangers, towards his own demise, he tried to stir up some sort of emotion. He didn't feel afraid, and that scared him.

But he couldn't help himself. He was empty inside.

Instead he passed the time by looking into each cell as they walked by. He tried to guess, just by looking, whether the person was guilty of a crime, or had just been framed, like him. He tried to guess what that crime might have been. And he wondered what their sentence was.

The walk was too short. Soon Kel was being led into the last room he would ever see.

The doors swung closed behind him.

END


End file.
